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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23873878">Not Poisen, Just Flu</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Androids_in_Metropolis/pseuds/Androids_in_Metropolis'>Androids_in_Metropolis</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Lucifer (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Sickfic, Stomach Ache, Vomiting, Whump</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:22:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,981</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23873878</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Androids_in_Metropolis/pseuds/Androids_in_Metropolis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer wakes up ill, assuming he has been poisoned. The Detective comes when he calls...No one has ever done that before. </p><p>* I am crap at summaries, but essentially Lucifer is sick, his dad/God was abusive and Chloe is always there when he needs her **</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>183</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Not Poisen, Just Flu</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey, so I haven't written anything in a long time but I have been in isolation since the 23rd of March and tbu I have nothing else to do besides rewatch Lucifer so I hope y'all like this...I know it isn't great, and tbh I haven't reread it to edit it at all before posting. I just noticed an unfortunate lack of sickfics for the Lucifer fandom, and as it's my favourite feel-good genre I thought I'd release some into the wild. Comment if you have any sickfic Lucifer Morningstar prompts you'd like filled!! Keen as to do some more :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chloe woke up with a start, her phone ringing loudly next to her head. Her digital clock read 5:45 am and she cursed whoever was calling at the asscrack of dawn on a Friday morning. The sun had barely poked its head behind the early morning mist, the cold winter light hardly breaking the droplets suspended in the air. </p><p>“Hello?” she croaked into the phone, clearly her throat quickly, “Detective Decker here.” she finished, starting to sit up. Being a detective for the LA PD was a signed contract for a poor sleep schedule. Cases got tagged in at all hours of day and night, unfortunately. There was no reply on the other end of the phone, and again, she introduced herself, adding “Hello? Hello?” to the end of her introduction. </p><p>“Detective, oh thank Dad you picked up!” Lucifer’s insufferable voice came through the phone, though there was something off...a tiredness that Chloe was very unaccustomed to hearing in her devilish companions voice-Frankly, she wasn’t completely sure he even slept like everyone else. </p><p>“Lucifer, you do realize,” Chloe hissed, mildly annoyed that her sleep had been interrupted for absolutely no reason. “That it is six-o’clock in the fucking morning?” She was already tucking herself back into bed, her head hitting the pillow, fully prepared to hang up the phone as soon as Lucifer told her his no-doubt bull shit reason for waking her up before the sun had even hit the sky. </p><p>“Why, yes, Detective, I do know how to tell the time.” Lucifer sounded rough, his voice cracking. “I do, however, have some important news…” The man on the other end of the phone trailed off, a hacking cough crackling through the speaker. “I think, that I may have been poisoned.” </p><p>Chloe was out of bed in a flash, already dressing as she quickly fired off questions into the phone, demanding what was going on in the LA penthouse. She was half-way out the door when she realised that coughing, and laboured breathing, and the persistent sniffling were probably not the most common symptoms of poisoning. “Lucifer,” she was almost laughing, “I think you’re sick...something you may not be used to, but certainly isn’t deadly.” Chloe swung herself into her car, figuring she was up already and might as well go check on the benevolent child on the other end of the crackling phone line. He did sound pretty miserable.</p><p>“I don’t get sick, detective,” Lucifer whined, she could hear him flushing a toilet in the background, grunting. “Please, just come check that it’s not poison, something is very not right! I am not making it up.” He sounded very much like a petulant child, a hint of genuine upset in his tone. Lucifer could not remember the last time he’d been sick-Certainly not in his adult life. He remembered one time in his childhood very vividly, his father had yelled at him while he vomited up ash on his hands and knees...That didn’t do to think about. “Please, just...Come get me.” </p><p>Chloe revved the engine. </p><p> </p><p>Lucifer slumped against the bathroom wall, dropping his cell phone next to him once the call went dead. His stomach was rolling, gurgling as he leaned his face against the porcelain bowl, the cool surface feeling smooth and comforting against his skin. This definitely, most certainly, was not his finest moment. Maybe the Detective was correct, the king of Hell himself, had succumbed to some human...illness.  </p><p>Lucifer was crying, clutching his stomach as a booming voice reprimanded him, the light around him far too bright for his smarting eyes. He could feel his head pounding, the sound slipping around him like a soft soup of air, impossible to catch. There was a puddle of ash in front of him, a large hand forcing his face down into it…</p><p>“You will learn your lesson,” the voice of his father boomed, rubbing the boys face into the puddle of sick in front of him. “You will not disrespect my service again.” </p><p>“Please,” Lucifer whimpered, wretching, his stomach tightly coiled…”Please stop, Dad.” </p><p>Lucifer woke with a start, realising he had fallen asleep against the wall, that there were steps coming down the hall towards him. He tried to scramble to his feet, tripping up on his sock-clad toes. “Who’s there?” he croaked, his fever bright eyes darting past the door, looking down the dimly lit hall. He caught a glimpse of blonde hair, relief washing over him as he stepped forward, “Oh, thank goodness, it’s you, detective.”</p><p>With the words barely past his lips Lucifer sank to the ground, no ceremony, passed out cold at Chloe’s feet. </p><p> </p><p>Chloe sank to the ground next to the lanky man, muttering curses under her breath as she put her cool hand against his forehead, hissing at the heat radiating off his typically cool, almost stonelike, skin. His cheeks were flushes, dark purple circles settled underneath his fluttering eyelids. He was fully dressed, lacking only shoes with his typical suit. “Oh, Lucifer,” she mumbled, shaking him gently. “Wake up, common, your a grown man, don’t let a little fever get you down.” Though her tone was teasing, there was genuine concern tugging at her tongue. It was very unlike her devilish counterpart to look so...well, frumpy. He usually would have prided himself hugely on his put together, carless and attractive manner...He wouldn’t be puddled on the floor, his hair matted to his forehead unless there was seriously something very, very wrong. </p><p>Chloe noticed with relief that Lucifer was starting to come to, though the relief quickly turned to alarm when he sat up quickly, a hand clamped tightly over his mouth. His eyes were darting back and forth in panic, the universal signal for ‘I’m not going to make it’. Chloe looked around frantically for a rubbish bin, settling on a decorative bowl she saw on the hallway table, pushing in towards Lucifer just as he started to gag. “Oh Luci,” she cooed, her hand rubbing smooth circles on the man’s heaving back. Usually, she would be wondering what he hoped to gain from this situation, but in all honesty, the thought wasn’t even crossing her mind. This unusual display of, well, humanity was incredibly out of character for the man whose whole life was based around an image of perfection. </p><p>“Common, honey,” Chloe said once he had finished, holding the bowl still tightly to his chest. Her motherly instinct was kicking in, and she couldn’t help but see a scared child in Lucifer “Let’s get you into some pyjamas, and onto the couch.” She took the bowl from Lucifer, trying not to wrinkle her nose as she dumped into the toilet, which wasn’t more than four steps down the hallway behind where Lucifer sat.</p><p>“Normally, detective, I wouldn’t hesitate and the thought of you undressing me,” Lucifer mumbled as he clambered to his feet, leaning heavily against the wall, “but I am afraid I’m just not feeling it today.” </p><p>Some of the worries slipped away at the sly commend, Chloe relieved that at least he had the energy to still be a smart ass. “Alright, then, Mister,” she instructed, “Go put on your comfiest clothes right now, I’ll stand outside the door.” There was no room for argument in the statement, and while usually Lucifer would have at least tried to find some sort of witty comeback, Chloe was surprised when he simply nodded and slunk towards his bedroom. If he didn’t look so pathetic, Chloe thought she could get used to this version of her annoying civilian consultant.  </p><p>Chloe heard an alarming thump from inside Lucifer’s room, with no string of swears following...She swung the door open, running towards the fallen man. Lucifer had his head in his hands, leaning into his silk sheets. His knees had hit hard against the hardwood floor, sharp hisses of pain letting Chloe know he may have genuinely hurt himself. His breathing was a little too fast for Chloe’s liking, quick and wheezing. </p><p>“It hurts, Detective,” Lucifer whined, pulling his hair, his knuckles white. His toes were curled in his socks, back stiff. His head was pounding, he could feel the blood rushing to his flushed face...his stomach was doing summersaults. “Oh no, not again,” Lucifer jolted to the side, grabbing the rubbish bin from under his desk, unceremoniously sicking into the bin.  </p><p>Chloe dropped down beside Lucifer for the second time in a half-hour, his broad back taught under her hand. He was shivering, clutching onto the rubbish bin. Chloe noticed with trepidation that Lucifer was burning up, even half-naked. “Common, we have to get you cooled down,” Choe whispered, pulling Lucifer up, taking the rubbish bin from him and pulling him gently towards the bathroom. She switched on the shower, thanking the stars that Lucifer’s whole bathroom was a bougie wet room as she sat him down on the toilet, pulling the showerhead out into the bathroom. </p><p>“C-Cold,” Lucifer complained, shivering as the warm water hit his skin. He looked like a lost puppy, his pink boxer shorts unfortunately visible through his damp linen sleep pants. He leaned heavily into Chloe, his head resting against her stomach as she showered him down, her hand on his back holding him steady. “It’s cold, D-D..Decker.” </p><p>Chloe looked at Lucifer, looking lost and upset, green around the edges. He looked helpless, and clearly not himself, he reminded her uncomfortably of her own child…”Common baby, let’s get you dry and onto the couch,” she said, hesitantly, testing the waters. Lucifer’s whine and nuzzle into her indicated that no creepy commend was following, which, really was possibly more concerning that no lewd comment had been made. “The fever is really getting to you, huh buddy?” Chloe asked as she helped the man up, wrapping an arm firmly around his waist, turning off the shower with her free hand. She grabbed a towel as they walked slowly out of the bathroom, quite a bit of Lucifer’s weight being supported by her. Lucifer grunted in reply. “Common, it’ll be okay.”</p><p> </p><p>By 11am Lucifer was in a dry pair of pyjamas, wrapped up in a large fuzzy blanket on the couch, a trash binn pulled up next to him and day time TV (something he insisted he detested, though he was now happily watching, his head resting against Chloe’s shoulder. She noticed he was drifting in and out of fitful sleep, muttering to himself. He was having nightmares about his father, she realised, as he called out to someone to please, please stop hurting him. </p><p>Chloe’s heart was breaking as Lucifer cried out again in his sleep, jolting himself awake just as she was about to shake him awake. Whatever his father had dome to him...Chloe shuddered, remembering the deep scars across Lucifer’s back...The panicked way he reacted when said scars were touched. She shook herself out of her head, brushing Lucifer’s damp hair out of his face, noticing he was already falling back into sleep. </p><p>“Please, Detective,” Lucifer whispered, clutching her hand as it came to rest gently on his chest. “Please don’t let Dad hurt me.” </p><p>The words broke Chloe’s heart-Lucifer had never really spoken in depth about what his father had done to him besides his mellow dramatic stories about how every human inconvenience was his...God trying to make his life harder. She couldn’t get her head around his wild metaphorically biblical universe, but hey, whatever got him through the day. Chloe shifted, settling in for a long day, flicking through the day time telly channels until she settled on something that interested her. </p><p>Chloe had fallen asleep with Lucifer on the couch, waking with a start as Lucifer scrambled from the couch, slipping down the hallway as he rushed again towards the toilet. Chloe was up in a flash, following him quickly down the hallway. “Lucifer? Lucifer, what’s the matter?” She called as the bathroom door slammed in her face, and no answer came through the door. She knocked again. “Lucifer?”</p><p>“Go away, Detective,” Lucifer’s strangled voice called out, punctuated by a soft whimper. “Please.” </p><p>Chloe blushed, understanding. “Well, I’ll be on the couch, come out when you can, okay?” She said, not waiting for an answer, pretty certain she would not be getting one. With that, she turned on her heel and got comfortable on Lucifer’s ridiculously comfortable sofa, pulling the fluffy blanket he had dragged off with him back onto the couch and settling in for a long day. </p><p> </p><p>Lucifer was up and down from the couch for several hours, so many times in fact that real worry was again sparking in Chloe’s chest. This was very, very unlike the man she knew. He was incredibly proud, and the fact that he was clearly rather upset by the whole ordeal was sending off alarm bells in her head, not to mention the fact that his fever wasn’t breaking despite the multiple fever-reducing concoctions Chloe had forced down his throat. </p><p>“Do humans really do this, this...awful thing several times a year?” Lucifer croaked, grasping the rubbish bin to his chest haphazardly. He looked beyond miserable, face very grey around the edges. </p><p>“Yes, hon,” Chloe mumbled, rolling her eyes despite herself. “We, humans, are surprisingly strong, now,” she said, taking the bin from him and setting it beside the couch, “we have got to get that fever down, and some fluids in you.” She passed Lucifer another round of fever reducers (the previous lot having just found their way into the bin moments before) and a glass of sprite. He took them without complaining or trying to make any witty retort which was a true indication of how ill he was feeling. </p><p>“Common, you can’t really tell me you’ve never had the flu,” Chloe said, taking the glass away from him once she was satisfied he had rehydrated sufficiently, refilling the glass and setting it on the side table waiting to hand it to him to see how the last one would settle. </p><p>“No, Detective, you will be surprised to know that the Devil does not get stomach viruses,” Lucifer bit, though none of the usual wit was behind the words, instead he slumped against Chloe’s shoulder. He brushed away the thoughts of the only other time he could remember emptying his guts as he was now...The poison his own father had slipped to him. The ash, the acidic dusty flavour that had coated his mouth. The blood and ash, the lava that had spat out of him as he begged his father to make it stop. </p><p>Chloe looked at him, eyes following him as he traced circles on his thing, his eyes glazed over clearly lost in some dreamscape she couldn’t see. “Hey Lucifer, earlier...Earlier you, well when you were asleep, you asked for your father to stop. What did you mean?” she asked quietly, taking his twidling hand in hers. </p><p>Lucifer jumped slightly, though he leaned further into the detective making himself comfortable. His fever inhibited brain moved more slowly than his mouth did as he started to explain the story to the detective, who wrapped her free arm easily around his shoulders, pulling him closer to her as he mumbled.</p><p>“Well...When I was younger I led a rebellion against my father...I was angry, young...mostly angry. To punish me, before he threw me to the bowels of hell he made me a leaving dinner, all of my favourite food,’ Lucifer spoke slowly, and quietly, his sentences punctured by a silence that was neither his typical brooding nor cheeky, but something else entirely. “I should have known, he wouldn’t do something kind for the sake of it. There was, well, something in the food and Dad had the antidote. He let me writhe for days, my stomach was on literal fire detective...I spewed more ash than Pompey.” Lucifer trailed off, already half asleep against the detective’s shoulder, wrapping one lanky arm around her waist. </p><p>Chloe noticed with relief that his fever felt like it had finally broken, pondering Lucifer’s story as she leaned heavily into the arm of the couch, tucking her legs up under herself and reminding herself that if he ever met Lucifer’s father she would hit him hard...in the jaw. Or the nuts. Either or.</p><p>Chloe drifted off into sleep, her civilian consultant tucked snuggly against her side. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Chloe woke to the sound of the kitchen in use, which in and of itself was very unusual sound in the penthouse. She shook herself awake, looking around at the newly tidy living room and the early morning light, realizing with a start they must have slept through the entire day and into the next morning. Getting up and pulling the fuzzy blanket around her she walked quietly towards the kitchen, poking her around the corner of the kitchen. </p><p>The sight that met her eyes was quite a shock, bottomless Lucifer standing over a griddle happily flipping pancakes and humming the chorus to singing in the rain rather loudly to himself. </p><p>“Good morning detective, pancake?” he asked, flipping one onto a plate without looking behind him as Chloe sat down behind the breakfast bar, smiling at the cup of coffee that found its way into her hand. </p><p>“Feeling better huh?” she said, taking a sip, quirking her eyebrow at the naked consultant in front of her, his kiss the chef apron covering his well...produce. </p><p>“Oh much.” The later said, pouring a generous helping of syrup onto a stack of pancakes. “Oh, and detective, thank you for looking after me.” He slid the pancakes across the bar towards Chloe, giving her a wink. </p><p>“Back to normal, I see,” Chloe snarked, rolling her eyes. “And of course I took care of you, I told you, I’m here for you, Lucifer.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you're staying safe! Comment away with your Lucifer sickfic prompts! Love to write more sick/hurt Lucifer.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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